


Breathe Me

by TheDoctorsCaptain



Category: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-09-09 17:19:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8901811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDoctorsCaptain/pseuds/TheDoctorsCaptain
Summary: When the Year That Never Was ends, Jack doesn't return to his team and Torchwood right away. Instead he decides to stay with the Doctor for a bit, intending to be the strong one when the Time Lord falls apart. But when Jack is the one who finally breaks, it's the Doctor who is there to put him back together again.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song Breathe Me written by Sia. If you haven't heard of it already, it's an AMAZING song and just screams Jack/Ten. Please, please, please, comment if you like what you read! <3

    _The knife drives another centimeter deeper into his chest, cutting through muscle and scraping past ribs. The screams that he had been managing to hold in are ripped from his lips and echo through the hot engine room._

 _"Had enough,_ freak _?" The sadistic Time Lord's voice sneers. His words are nearly lost as Jack drifts in and out of consciousness, already weak from the relentless beatings and made even weaker from the warm, steady river of blood running down his bare chest and dripping onto the cold floor._

_"P-p...lea..se," Jack gasps and arches his back, as the knife is cruelly twisted. "Pl-"_

_"Say it," the voice is right next to his ear, hot breath blowing against his cheek. "Say my name." Jack had tried to resist giving in for so long, telling himself that the worst thing the Time Lord could do is kill him. But soon after he had been taken prisoner on board the_ Valiant _, Jack learned that he was terribly mistaken. The Time Lord was smart, taking his time, inflicting wounds and pressure in just the right places, intent on causing maximum pain and keeping the release of death just barely out of reach._

_Jack prayed for death now, but he knew it wouldn't come quickly. Where would the fun be in that? Realizing the only way to make it all stop was to submit, Jack managed to choke out , "Ma...s-ster."_

_Laughing with the glee of a madman, the Master yanks the knife out of Jack's chest. He barely has time to close his eyes before his throat is ripped open, tearing his jugular, that horrible laugh echoing in his ears as he chokes on his own bl-_

 

  Jack sits bolt upright in his tiny cot, panting and shivering with a cold sweat in the pitch blackness of the concrete hole below his office that serves as his sleeping quarters. A quiet sob escapes him as all the pain and fear he felt for over a year comes flooding back. 

  "Jack?" Ianto's sleepy voice breaks the silence. "Jack, what's wrong?" Jack doesn't answer, just shakes his head, knowing Ianto can't see him in the dark. He feels two arms wrap themselves around his chest and torso, pulling him backwards into the warm, bare chest of his lover. Neither of them say anything, instead they just sit there together in the darkness, Ianto holding Jack, wishing more than anything that he could protect the older man from whatever it is that tortures him almost every night. 

  Finally, Jack drifts off into a fitful sleep, Ianto's arms never loosening around him.


	2. Chapter 2

   Jack watched the Doctor's shaking form on the floor across the main deck of the _Valiant_  as it pulled the body of the Master even closer. Despite the pang he felt in his own chest at the sight of the pain the Time Lord he loved was in, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming wave of relief. It had all happened so quickly; one second the Master was in custody sneering at the Doctor, even though he was defeated...the next second he was on the floor, cradled in the arms of the Doctor. 

   As Jack carefully took the gun out of Lucy Saxon's hand, he silently thanked her for taking care of the job for him while the thin woman stared numbly at her husband. Jack wasn't stupid; he knew the Doctor would never have allowed Jack to execute the Master, even if he knew only half of what Jack had endured at the hands of the sadistic Time Lord. The deaths and the beatings the Master had dealt out as if they were free hugs, the emotional abuse and the.....violations. No, the Doctor would do everything in his power to keep the only other Time Lord in existence safe after centuries of believing his was the last of his kind. 

   Even now, he begged the Master to stay with him, his pleas for the other's regeneration rising to a shout as the body in his arms convulsed once and then went limp. It hurt Jack to no end seeing his Doctor weeping like that on the floor, rocking the body of his childhood friend.  _He's not_ my  _Doctor_ , Jack chided himself. As much as he loved the man who had taken him on so many adventures and showed him that there was more to life than cons and meaningless sex, although the Doctor hadn't actually  _showed_ Jack the sex part much to Jack's dismay, he couldn't help but be haunted by what the Time Lord had said to him through the door when Jack was in the radiation flooded room. 

 

    _It's not easy, even just looking at you, Jack because....because you're wrong._  

 

   All those years Jack had waited. Waited for the man he loved to return for him and fix his immortality, never loosing faith that he would. But when the Doctor had spoken those words to him, the love Jack felt had been temporarily replaced with something much darker. Hate, resentment and also...hurt. Jack had never asked to be made immortal, it wasn't as if it was his fault. But to hear the Doctor tell him that he was  _wrong_ , to have that word swimming around in his head for the past year, that one word had hurt Jack so much more than any bullet or blade the Master had used on him. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapters are going to start getting longer now I promise <3

When UNIT finally arrived, they herded everyone off the deck for questioning except for Jack and the Doctor. Jack pitied the young officer who was ordered to retrieve the Master's body and was instead met with the fierce glare of the Doctor. 

   "You're not taking him anywhere," the Doctor said when the officer tried to explain, his voice low and deadly. "He's to be given a proper burial. Not stored in UNIT facility where you ignorant apes will run tests on him." Jack couldn't help but smile as the Doctor reverted to the insult that his previous regeneration had been quite fond of. 

   "Yes, but you don't understand," the officer began. "This is a UNIT investigation and we nee-" he was cut off by Jack who casually clapped the kid on the shoulder and winked at him. 

   "It's alright, handsome," he said, flashing his signature grin. "Captain Jack Harkness. I'm with the Torchwood Institute. I'll take it from here." When the officer opened his mouth to protest again, Jack silenced him with quick squeeze of his shoulder and a look of warning in his eyes. Finally, he seemed to get the message and hurried away. 

   Now that the two of them were finally alone, the Doctor dropped his head again and pulled the Master closer. Jack stood silently for a minute before crouching down and resting a light hand on the Doctor's back. "C'mon, Doc," he said softly. "Let's get him away from here." The Doctor barely nodded in agreement and Jack reached out and began to lift the Master's body into his own arms. At this, the Doctor whipped his head up, his eyes filled with surprise at Jack's actions. 

   "Jack, you don't need to, I mean, after what he did, I don't expect you to-" 

   "It's okay, Doctor." Jack said, his voice sounding more certain than he felt. "I got him." They both rose to their feet and together walked through the corridors to the TARDIS, the expression on the Doctor's face daring any of UNIT's men to try and stop them. 

   Surrounded once again by the comforting presence of the TARDIS, both Jack and the Doctor felt some of the tension in their bodies disappear. When the Doctor stopped to lean against the console of his ship, Jack took the Master's body to the med-bay where he laid him down on a metal table with a gentleness he didn't feel. Jack studied the face, relaxed in death, and felt the childish urge to stick out his tongue. 

   Returning to the console room, he found the Doctor exactly has he had left him. When it was clear that the Doctor wasn't going to speak first, Jack did. "What now, Doc?"

   "He did such despicable things," the Doctor murmured. "He killed so many people, destroyed so much. But he was still a Time Lord. He's going to given the funeral of one." 

   Jack had to swallow a fresh wave of anger at the love that was infused in the Doctor's words. Yes, love. Jack wouldn't delude himself. During the past year, there was and still is no denying that the Doctor loved the Master. Even as cities burned and countless people screamed for mercy as the Toclafane descended upon them, the Doctor never stopped  loving him. 

   "What do you need?" Jack asked. "What kind of funeral are we talking?"

   "Somewhere secluded," the Doctor answered. "Somewhere I can build a pyre." Jack nodded, glad he could take care of both requests. He made a quick call to the Torchwood hub and gave a quick explanation for what he was asking. 

 

 

 

 

  When they reached the lonely Welsh beach at sunset, they found a pyre had already built and stood waiting. Jack had once again began to lift the Master's body, but this time, he was halted by a firm hand on his upper arm. He turned to face the Doctor questioningly.

   "I can do it, Jack," the Doctor said, he wouldn't meet Jack's eyes but looked past him to rest on the face of his lost friend. "Could you give me a few minutes before coming out?"

  "Yeah," Jack answered. "Of course, Doc." He retreated from the med-bay then to wander the halls of the TARDIS, letting the ship guide him. After a few minutes, he stopped and leaned against a wall, closing his eyes and trying to convince himself that it really was over. The wall, seemed to grow slightly warmer and a rumbling gently vibrated under his fingers. "Sorry about the rough treatment at the end, old girl," Jack whispered to the ship with a smile. He remembered having to fight his way into the corrupted ship to destroy the Master's paradox machine within it. He had been surprised at the time of how easily he had gotten in after he got past the Toclafane. But now he realized that the TARDIS had been helping him, allowing her to shoot apart her console in order to safe the world. "Suppose I should go out there, huh?" The rumbling sounded again in response. 

 

  Stepping outside of the blue police box, Jack's eyes immediately fell on the familiar black SUV parked a couple hundred yards across the sandy dunes and the equally familiar figure standing next to it. He took small steps forward at first before breaking into a sprint. As he collided with the figure, almost knocking him to ground, Jack realized that he had silent tears streaming down his face. 

  Ianto didn't say anything at the appearance of his captain. Instead he wrapped his arms as tightly as he could around the older man and held him close. He didn't know anything about what had happened to Jack, or where he'd been, but it was clear to him that it had shaken him up. They stayed like that for a while until Jack finally pulled away. 

 

  The leaned against the SUV togethet, gazing at the Doctor's silhouette in the distance, long brown coat flapping around his legs.  "I know you have questions," Jack started. "And God knows I have the answers. But I can't explain everything right now." Ianto only nodded, which slightly alarmed Jack. He had expected Ianto to be pissed at him for leaving the team with no explanation, and he didn't hold it against the Welshman. "I know you're angry with me an-" 

  "I'm not angry, Jack," Ianto interruped. "I was at first, but not anymore. You left without saying anything to anyone. Right after we thought we had lost you for good." Jack hung his head at that statement. "But then when I saw him," he tilted his head in the Doctor's direction. "I understood why you did it. You're not coming back right away, are you?" The certainty with which Ianto had asked startled Jack. 

  "No." He saw the younger man close his eyes at the answer he had been anticipating. He wanted nothing more than to hold and kiss Ianto, to let him know that Jack loved  _him_ , but before he could say anything else, Ianto spoke again. 

  "Good." God, Ianto never failed to surprise him. 

  "What?"

  Turning to face Jack fully now, Ianto took his hand squeezing slightly. "He  _needs_ you, Jack. Look at him." 

  "You're not jealous?" Jack asked with a frown, trying to figure out where the catch was. 

  "Of course not. How could I be? He's broken and you clearly have a few cracks too. And as much as I wish I could, I can't help you heal completely." Jack felt a surge of pure love for the man standing in front of him. "When you're both okay again, Ianto continued. "I'll be right here waiting for you."

  Jack couldn't help himself then, and pressed his lips to Ianto's. He wished it could have lasted forever, but Ianto suddenly pulled away. With a shy smile on his face, he gave Jack a gentle shove in the Doctor's direction. "Now, go!" 

  Chuckling, Jack beamed at his lover with pure happiness. "I'll come back, Ianto Jones. I promise."

  


	4. Chapter 4

   For almost an hour, Jack sat in the sand near the TARDIS and allowed the Doctor to grieve for his childhood friend on his own. Jack watched as the flames danced across the pyre and sent thick, black smoke curling towards the night sky. Brushing off his military overcoat, Jack finally trudged over to where the Doctor stood with his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the shrouded body, face devoid of expression.  
   They stood there together for a few moments, side by side, heat splashing their faces. Then, Jack broke the silence.  
   "Where will you go now?" He asked softly.  
   "The same places I always go; everywhere and nowhere." The Doctor's voice was dull and he spoke numbly.  
   "Alone?" Jack thought of how Martha, the Doctor's most recent travel companion had decided to stay with her family for a while, to help them and herself process what had happened to them.  
   The Doctor laughed then, but the sound held no humour. "I'm always alone, Jack. I always have been and I always will be. It doesn't matter how many companions I have. Or how brilliant they are. Because in the end, they're human; all of them. And you know as well as I do that humans are fragile creatures and they don't last. No matter how much you love them or want them to stay."  
  Jack felt as though someone had wrapped their fist around his heart and squeezed. There was pure pain behind the Doctor's words and Jack realized for the first time just how much the Doctor had lost in his nine hundred years of life. But the Doctor was right. Jack was no stranger to watching the people he loved die, and as much as he tried not to dwell on the thought, he knew in his heart that he would one day do the same with Ianto.  
   Tugging the Doctor's hand out his pocket, Jack slipped his own into it. "You're not alone right now, Doctor." The Doctor looked at him then, surprise flashing across his features.  
   "You mean, you'll stay with me?" He sounded so hopeful and yet so astonished that Jack longed to kiss him and hold him in his arms right then and there.  
   "Yes, of course I will." Jack grinned at the Time Lord then, and squeezed his fingers reassuringly. "C'mon. I think it's time for us to go now." The Doctor nodded and together, the two of them headed towards the blue police box.

 

   Once they were inside, the Doctor punched in several commands into the main console, without his usual vigor Jack noticed, and sent them orbiting into space. Then he stood there looking lost, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do or where to go next. Him being a Time Lord and Jack being immortal meant that neither of them ever needed to sleep much. But Jack felt like he would collapse soon if he didn't make it to a bed and it only took a mere glance at the Doctor to see that he was absolutely exhausted as well.  
   "Doc, don't take this the wrong way," Jack started. "But you need to sleep." The Doctor nodded slightly.  
   "Yes," he agreed. "I suppose maybe I should." But he made no move to carrying out the suggestion. That momentary spark of life Jack had seen in his eyes on the beach had burned out, and now, the Doctor had retreated back into himself.  
   Sighing, Jack stepped forward and once again took the Doctor's hand in his own and gently led him down the one of the infinite corridors of the TARDIS.  
   As they walked together, Jack couldn’t help but gag on the stench that clung to the Doctor’s clothing. He stank like ash and, Jack realized with a shudder, like charred meat.  
   Given the fact that the Master only seemed concerned with Jack’s personal hygiene when he finally got sick of the smell, Jack himself hadn’t bathed in quite some time and he imagined that he didn’t smell too great either.  
   Clearly, a shower was called for. Just as he'd hoped, the TARDIS made the first door Jack reached for the door to the Doctor's barely used bedroom. The decor was simple yet elegant and was various shades of brown and maroon. Most of the furniture seemed like it belonged in a time long past, and gave the room an overall vintage feeling.  
   Thankfully, the Doctor’s bedroom was connected to a large bathroom and Jack was pleased to see that the roomy shower would easily be able to hold two occupants at once. Moving the Doctor to stand in the centre of the bathroom, Jack began to strip off the soiled pinstripe suit from the Doctor’s lanky body. .  
   In normal circumstances, Jack would have been hard pressed not to sneak in a few teasing strokes here and there, but this time, it was clear to him that the hurting Time Lord needed comfort, not pleasure. And Jack was intent on giving him just that.  
   After finishing with the jacket, shirt and tie, Jack knelt down and began undoing the Doctor’s trousers. He tried not to think about the perfect angle he was given of the Time Lord, particularly of a part of his anatomy he had thought of often.  
  When he had tugged off the beaten trainers and successfully worked the Doctor’s trousers down and off his legs, he stood, leaving the Doctor in only his pants. He had considered removing them as well, but decided against it because he wanted to make the Doctor as feel as comfortable and un awkward as possible.  
   Kicking the ruined clothes into a pile by the door, Jack fiddled with the shower handles until he achieved a warm spray coming from the faucet. He then quickly removed his own clothing, leaving his pants on as well, and tossed them to join the Doctor’s.  
   Then he went back to the Doctor and gently tugged him into the shower. The Doctor closed his eyes as the warm water ran down his back and leaned into the wall.          Now wet, his hair, which usually rebelled against the rules of gravity, hung down into his eyes, a look that Jack found to be quite endearing.  
   After running his hands through his own hair, Jack decided that it was time for them to get cleaned up. Selecting a bottle of shower gel, he poured some into his palm and rubbed both his hands together until fluffy bubbles were made.  
   He hesitantly took a small step towards the Doctor, being careful not to startle him or make him feel threatened.  
He started by touching the Doctor only with his fingertips on one hand, lightly rubbing the pale skin of his shoulder. The Doctor unmistakably stiffened at the contact and Jack almost considered pulling away but instead continued the small motions.  
   After a few moments, Jack felt, rather than saw, the lean muscle under his fingers slowly begin to relax and, encouraged, used his entire hand now to massage the Doctor’s shoulder.  
   He worked his way slowly down the Doctor’s arm, adding his other hand when the Doctor showed no signs of pulling away. When he finished with that arm, he began on the second.  
   Jack’s hands glided over the Doctor’s skin, which was smooth and unmarked except for a few freckles. Feeling slightly guilty, he relished in the feel of the contact he had wished to have for so long. Adding some shampoo, he began washing the Doctor’s hair, pushing it back from his face and rinsing the suds out with the warm water.  
   He snapped out of his thoughts when he noticed that the Doctor had slowly begun to lean into his touch. Cautiously, he ceased scrubbing and slowly slid his hand down to cup the Doctor’s cheek and moved closer to him.  
   Without saying a word, the Doctor closed the distance between them and leaned his head on Jack’s shoulder. Jack froze in surprise, but only for a moment. Feeling the Doctor’s need to be held, his desperation to know that there was still someone who hadn’t been taken away from him, he happily obliged and wrapped his arms around the Time Lord, holding him close and secure.  
    Jack didn’t know how long they stood like that under the gentle spray, but eventually he felt fatigue start to creep up on him again.  
   Turning the water off, he exited the shower and tugged two large, fluffy towels down from the bar on the wall. He handed one of them to the Doctor, who seemed to have managed to pull a part of himself back together.  
   While the Doctor dried himself off, Jack quickly stripped off his pants and wrapped the towel around his waist before heading back into the Doctor’s bedroom. He looked around before spotting a tall mahogany dresser and pulled open a few drawers until he found a pair of simple black house pants and a dark red, long-sleeved shirt.  
   Pushing his still dripping hair out of his eyes, he padded back into the bathroom and presented the clothes to the Doctor. He politely turned away as the Doctor dressed and when he had finished, took the Time Lord’s hand yet again and took him back out into the bedroom.  
   As if the Doctor were a small child, Jack pulled back the covers of the bed and when the Doctor had climbed underneath them, drew them back up and around him. Deciding that wasn’t enough, Jack also spread out the dark comforter, which had been folded neatly at the bottom of the bed.  
   Satisfied that getting cold wouldn’t be an issue, Jack directed his attention to the Time Lord’s face. The Doctor was strong and had dealt with the blow of loss before, but as he had been watching Jack carefully arrange his blankets he kept quiet, grateful to be taken care of for once.  
   “Alright, Doc,” Jack said. “Get some sleep now.”  
   The Doctor managed a small smile, as he looked at man standing above him. “Thank you, Jack,” he whispered. Jack said nothing in return, but he smiled back.  
   Turning off the light as he exited the Doctor’s room, he headed off down the corridor in search of his own shivering slightly as a result of only wearing a towel.  
   When he reached his door and pushed it open, he froze. His room was exactly the way he had left it. The walls were painted a dark blue with matching covers on the bed, still unmade from the last time he slept under them. The dresser and nightstand were made of cherry wood and a simple, yet sturdy and roomy desk was up against the wall opposite his bed. Rather than an overhead light, the switch by the doorway turned on the lamp next to Jack’s bed, which bathed the room in a nice glow that was bright enough to see but not overpowering. Overall, the room was simple and not overly decorated, but to Jack, that was his home.  
   Jack was oddly touched that nothing had been changed and the TARDIS had kept everything the way that it was. He patted the doorway affectionately as he looked around, bathing in the memories of adventures with the Doctor.  
   “Thanks old girl,” he murmured, feeling a returning buzz under his hand.  
    Yawning, Jack tugged on just a pair of pants before climbing underneath the covers, enjoying the way they felt against his bare skin. He rolled onto his side and turned out the lamp, smiling as the familiar humming of the TARDIS surrounded him in the dark and sleep overtook him. Jack was a fool for thinking that he would finally be able to get a night’s worth of rest. He had only been asleep a mere hour before the nightmare came. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make this chapter MUCH longer, but decided to break it up a bit so I could at least get something posted for you guys! 
> 
> I know it's on the short side, but I hope you enjoy!

With a strangled cry, Jack’s eyes snapped open. He lay there, soaked in sweat and panting with the bed sheets tangled around his legs. 

Panicking, he clutched at his stomach, certain that he would find a bloody mess. His eyes filled with tears when he felt only the smooth, unmarked skin of his abdomen. 

He pushed his damp fringe off his forehead, trying to lesson the pounding of his heart in his chest and bring his breathing back under control. But the harder he tried, the more ragged it became. 

The first sob escaped him and he stuffed his fist in mouth in an attempt to muffle the rest that followed. 

It had all seemed so real; the sharp bite of the blade that had ripped through him, the laugh of the Master that had cut even deeper. All of it looking, feeling, and sounding just like it had for the past year. 

“He’s gone,” Jack whispered to himself over and over again. “He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone.” His words were swallowed by the darkness, meaningless and empty. 

He continued to weep even after the tears ceased to flow. He wept until the muscles in his torso ached from exertion and he was filled only with the blissful numbness that comes with crying as long as one possibly can. 

Slowly, he sat up at the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands and breathing in deeply through his nose. The adrenaline was wearing off and soon a sense of calm washed over him again. His repeated mantra of he’s gone suddenly became believable to his ears. 

Now back to his senses, Jack determined that he hadn’t been asleep for very long as he pulled on a plain white undershirt. He smiled ruefully in the darkness at his own stupidity; he had been a fool for thinking that sleep would come easily to him. Or that it would stay in his grasp once it had. 

Jack knew all about PTSD of course. Hell, he’d experienced it himself more than once. But never had it been this intense. Logically, he was well aware that the Master was dead and gone, unable to hurt him any further. And yet, there was still a largely dominant part of him that denied fact and refused to believe he was safe. 

He hadn’t stayed alive more than a day for an entire year, the Master had made sure of that. After all, why would he have wasted the abilities of his favourite plaything? Seeing Jack die, seeing the breath leave his body and his heart stop beating before it restarted with a sudden gasp and shout had brought the monster a sick sense of pleasure, one that he showed no remorse in indulging in. 

Even now as Jack slowly walked along the endless corridors of the TARDIS, he half expected the sadistic Timelord to jump out from behind a corner and end his life with a bullet to the head or a blade to the chest, and start the cycle all over again. 

He wasn’t sure exactly he was going, only that he was headed somewhere. Anything was better than laying in his bed while images of his torture danced across his mind and the ghosts of his own screams echoed in his ears. But the TARDIS helped, in her own way. She changed up the corridors so that instead of harsh corners, there were only gentle curves to turn. 

Jack was grateful and he laid his palm flat against the wall, murmuring his thanks. When he had first come one board, he had found the ship’s ability to read a person’s emotions uncanny and almost intrusive. But now, he welcomed her comforting presence and trusted that she would lead him to wherever she thought he needed to be. 

The light slap of his bare feet against the warm, hardwood floor of the current corridor was the only sound to be heard, apart from the soft rumbling of the ship around him. 

For a moment he contemplated on going to check in on the Doctor, but decided that if the Timelord was sleeping he didn’t want to risk waking him. He was broken out of his thoughts though when he noticed that the corridor ended abruptly with a single doorway. Figuring it was intentionally put there, he reached out and twisted the knob open with ease. 

Upon stepping inside, Jack was pleasantly surprised to be greeted by the sight of what had been his favourite tavern in London in 1939. Everything was exactly same; the only light given off by a small oil lamp at each of the round tables and the crackling fireplace in the corner of the room, which gave a welcoming and cozy atmosphere; the dark, polished wood of the bar itself contrasting with the sparkling rows of alcohol bottles behind it; the equally dark wood of the floor that had been worn down by numerous pairs of boots and dainty heels and marked with scratches from where countless stools had been dragged across it. 

Jack chuckled. Apparently the TARDIS had decided that what he really needed was a good, long drink. More than that; he needed to forget, if only for a little bit. He wanted to forget what had happened to him, where he was, and where he was going.

Despite being the only one there, he felt a bit silly at wearing only his pants and t-shirt as he took a seat on one of the bar stools. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes at the once-familiar scent of both cigarette and wood smoke, spirits, and a faint trace of the oiled surfaces of soldier’s pistols. 

Leaning over the bar, Jack’s eyes scanned his options before he selected a nearly full bottle of scotch. He tried to remember the last time he’d had a proper drink as he watched the amber liquid flow into a faceted shot glass. 

With a smile on his lips, Jack tilted back his head and winced only slightly as the fire traveled down his throat. In only a second, he’d emptied his glass and right away he reached to refill it. 

It was far from cheap booze and it took only a couple shots before Jack could feel the alcohol taking effect. Most people would have stopped at that point and waited a bit before continuing but thankfully for Jack, he could hold his liquor well. 

Over and over again, he emptied his glass with a neat flip of his wrist and immediately refilled it. 

During his long life, Jack had had considerable practice using alcohol to dull unwanted emotions. He’d even developed an effective system that involved drinking copious amounts of booze as quickly as he could until he was good and drunk.

One of the perks of his immortality, and God knew how few of them there were, was that Jack could handle heavy drinking without any liver damage. As a part of healing so quickly, his body processed the alcohol faster, allowing him to drink more but unfortunately it made it harder to get fully intoxicated. So therefore, Jack had figured out pretty quickly that he had to down it as fast as he could. 

He relished the feeling of his mind going fuzzy, when all those memories filled with blood and pain ceased to press at his consciousness and became mere background noise. 

Almost twenty minutes had passed before the now empty bottle slipped between his fingers and shattered on the lacquered bar. 

In his drunken haze, the impact had sounded like a gunshot and Jack froze in terror, waiting for his vision to black. But it never came. Instead, he blinked at the shards of glass that covered the wooden surface and the thin streams of scotch that dripped on the floor. Then he laughed.

“He can’t get me anymore!” He giggled, his words slurred. Between the alcohol and all the time that Jack had spent fearing the Time Lord, the statement was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. 

“That’s right Mister Master! You can’t get me anymore!” Jack was unable to stop laughing and he repeated the phrase in a singsongy voice as he sloppily slid off his stool. 

He staggered through the bar, occasionally catching his bare foot on the leg of a chair. “Oh, sorry there, mate,” he mumbled when he bumped his hip into a table. “I didn’t see you there.” 

Slowly making his way down the corridor, he loudly sang Scotland the Brave, adding in random words whenever he forgot the real lyrics. Thankfully, the TARDIS shortened the journey, and Jack only needed to go a few metres to reach the door of his quarters. 

“Looks like I owe you another thank you, Old Girl,” he chuckled as he stumbled across his room. He struggled a few seconds with his t-shirt but managed to successfully pull it off over his head and dropped it carelessly on the floor. 

He collapsed on his bed and, realizing he was alone, wondered to himself if Ianto would be joining him after he’d finished straightening up the Hub. 

Ianto. 

Yes, he thought. Ianto would definitely be coming to stay with him. 

Jack wanted to stay awake and wait for Ianto, but sleep was insistently tugging at him to follow. It was with only a shred of regret that he would not be able to see Ianto that Jack finally sighed and sank into unconsciousness.


End file.
